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“So we’re just gonna walk in, sit down, and as she’s got the scissors to my neck, tell her this is a shakedown, like some good old 1920s mafia movie?” Daniel scratched his head in place of palming his face like he wanted to. Fuck, he hated his life.
Sabre grinned, rubbing his hands together and chuckling maniacally. “That’s the plan.”
“Christ,” Daniel whispered to no one in particular. This job was fucking nuts. He needed out. ASAP. He also needed a nap. Daniel poked at his phone. Two-thirty. “I’m going to bed. Meet me here at eight-thirty, looking like your suitable bad self.”
Sabre lightly punched Daniel. “I’ll be here.”
When Sabre strode out, he left Daniel alone with Mr. Troy. Not particularly Daniel’s favorite position to be in. Even if he didn’t like the goons, they were witnesses that he often felt kept Troy in check.
Daniel set down the cup he’d been holding and turned slowly to face his boss. “Anything in particular I need to know about the shop owners?”
Troy shrugged. “Mixed-race couple. Religious, but not overly so. They should be an easy mark. Go in, demand the money by tomorrow… you know the deal.”
“I do.” Daniel pressed his lips together, unsure what to say to get Troy to dismiss him.
Troy’s phone buzzed, and he jerked his head toward the door as he answered, saving Daniel the trouble. “Just a sec. Check in tomorrow, Dan, and close the door on your way out.”
“Thank fuck,” Daniel muttered after he’d firmly shut the office door. He rubbed his eyes and scrubbed his face. He had just enough in his tank to get home, throw the deadbolt, set an alarm, kick off his shoes, and fall face-first into bed. So that’s what he did.
????
With a large cup of to-go coffee in hand, Daniel shoved open the door to the beauty parlor-slash-barbershop at nine-oh-five. Sabre followed and took position in front of the door, preventing anyone else from entering.
The “Good morning” the middle-aged, slightly graying, black woman manning the counter was about to say, died on her lips. Her glare penetrated through Daniel before shifting to Sabre. Her eyes narrowed further, her brow lifted, her lips twitched. Lastly, she sighed and slumped to lean against her front counter. “Gentlemen,” she offered. “Hair cut?”
“No, we—”
“Have a seat, please. Right there.” She pointed to the first open seat, came around the counter, and called out, “Joe! Got one for you.” She eyed Sabre’s barely there crew cut and clucked her tongue. “Might as well cut it all off if you’re going that short.”
Sabre’s cheeks pinked as he rubbed a hand over his super-short hair.
Joe hustled out of the back room. “Here I am, Mary.” He clapped his hands, then rubbed them together with a gleeful chuckle, and might have pulled off diabolic if it wasn’t for the short-sleeve button-down covered in tiny palm trees and the salt-n-pepper comb-over he sported.
He peered at Daniel. “Why aren’t you sitting?”
“I’m not—”
“Sit.” Joe pointed.
Sabre shrugged.
Daniel sat. An uncontrollable shiver hit him as Joe waved the cape out and around his neck, pulling the straps tight. He gripped the chair’s arms. “Look, I’m not here for a cut.” He yanked the cape off and shoved out of the chair, nearly stumbling in his haste to escape.
Mary pursed her lips. “Seems weird to be coming into a salon and not want a cut or style.”
“Mr. Troy sent us. It seems you need protection, and he’s offering it for five grand, payable tomorrow.”
Mary blanched, her easy-going manner changing in an instant to something cold and hard. Joe hastened to stand beside her, his jovial smile turned into a frown. “Mr. Troy, you say?”
“Yes. If you don’t want anything to happen to your shop, that’s the price. I’ll be back this time tomorrow to collect.”
Mary closed her eyes a moment as she took a deep breath in and blew it out quickly. “Very well, gentlemen. I’ll see you tomorrow, Daniel. Leave your friend at home.”
Sabre stepped forward. “No, I’m supposed to accompany—”
She waggled a finger at Sabre, looking as if she didn’t care that he could bench-press her and her husband without breaking a sweat. “You want payment, that’s my demand.”
Daniel and Sabre exchanged glances. “We’ll do it your way, ma’am,” Daniel agreed, even as Sabre shook his head. He wanted to ask how she knew his name and who Troy was. Being alone with them tomorrow would grant him the opportunity. “This time.”
